


At the Apex

by keirajo



Series: Random Transformers Works (multiple generations, etc.) [7]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Assassination Plot(s), BDSM, Death, Deception, Destruction, F/M, Hate Sex, M/M, Master/Pet, Multi, Rape/Non-con Elements, War, many unhealthy elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-05 20:39:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19047988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keirajo/pseuds/keirajo
Summary: It is a world transformed, where things are not always what they seem................A scavenger of the battlefields finds a soldier yet alive on the battlefields and sets a long-range plan he has always wished to do put into action, finally.   At the end, will he stand at the apex of Cybertronian civilization?





	1. Scavenger

**Author's Note:**

> As I work on drafts for the next works in my other main series............this idea I had for a short work came up and pretty much wrote itself.
> 
> This is really super dark, guys. I really mean it. In reference, I very much prefer happy endings. I don't write dark 'fics as a plan........at least nothing dark that doesn't eventually have a happy ending.
> 
> That having been said--this is an extremely dark 'fic with no happy ending. Feel free to click away now and read one of my happier works if this isn't to your taste. :)

**_ At the Apex _ **

 

 

_ Chapter One:  Scavenger _

 

            **_It is a world of constant change, where things are not what they seem.   It is the world of the Transformers…a world of heroic Autobots and evil Decepticons.   It is a sparkling, shining, silver world called Cybertron._**

            At least, that’s what some history texts would say.   The truth is always dark and somewhat despressing in comparison.   The world was called “ _Cybertron_ ”, yes, and at one time it was indeed _shining_ and had something of a silvery sheen.   There were two factions that were indeed called “ _Autobots_ ” and “ _Decepticons_ ”, but whether they were heroic or evil, neither side every saw this in relation to themselves.   They had been locked into war for millions upon millions of years—the original reasons for the conflict, none living today could actually recall.  Once the war began, historians had to pick up arms and, once that happened, history was _no longer written_.   Stories were passed down as newmechs and newfemmes came into existence through the Primal Chamber, as directed by the Master Computer, Vector Sigma………..but the actual truth of the war and everything that had to do with it was lost to the dust of the battlefields and tides of time.

            As the Autobots and Decepticons waged constant battle against one another, there were also those who avoided the conflicts— _those who chose no sides_.   Who, often, scavenged the battlefields after the fighting was done…….and looked for anything they could possibly use to aid in their own particular survival in these dark times.   Over time, and seeking the comfort and presence of their own kind, some of those who were scavengers of the battlefields would eventually choose sides—often winding up as the bodies left behind in yet more battles.

            There was one mech in particular, who had been around for at least a millennia (but likely more—he chose never to reveal the date of his creation to anyone at all), who watched and waited as other scavengers took their first pick of the remnants of the battlefields.   Then he went out, cloaked in a rippling cape and cowl of black—to blend in with the lack of light that was all around—and crept through the bodies.   He never let it bother him to let other scavengers have the field before him, he usually wanted things that they did not.

            _Energon?   Innermost Energon?   Sparks……….to sell off the faded old crystal that used to be the source of a Transformer’s life?   A fuel pump that didn’t have much damage and could be recycled?   A T-Cog that could be reformatted?_

            **_No_** , _this_ particular scavenger had no desire for those premium items.   If other scavengers left behind these items and they had more damage than the others cared for, _sometimes_ he collected such things—they could be of use for research or even for spare parts.  Other scavengers would call what he collected something more macabre.

            _He collected **bodies**_.   Old frames of those fallen on the fields.   He had his reasons and he used everything he could in the frames he took—after he conducted all the research and operations he desired on the dead frames.   But this scavenger just didn’t take any old frame left behind on the battlefield………. _he took **special ones**_.   And he _knew_ they were special, even when their Sparks were snuffed out.

            _He simply **knew**_.

            The scavenger kicked an upheaval of rubble out of his path, which had a couple of battered and dented limbs along with it.   His violet boot with grey front and heel claws, ground flat and manicured to an almost trapezoidal form, acquired smears of Energon-infused lifeblood, and the toe-piece of his pede got caught on something.   As he lifted it and bent his head to look, he saw a fear-frozen faceplate looking back up at him.

            “Disgusting, but expected,” the mech murmured, shaking his pede and the head dislodged from the grey toe-piece and rolled off into who knew where.   Then he straightened up, getting a very strange feeling in his circuits.   He didn’t like to do this on a battlefield—even a settled one like this—because EM fields still rippled in their death throes for days after the battle was done and the frames that had the fields were deceased.   The odd scavenger unlocked his EM field to see if he could get a better sense of the “ _strange feeling_ ”.

            This city had once been called “ ** _Torux_** ” here on Cybertron, now it was simply slag and dead bodies.   The once beautifully-lighted pathway that the scavenger was now walking on, littered with corpses and lifeblood all around him, had once been called “ _Flare Avenue_ ”—it had pulsing lights inlaid deep within a clear walking surface.   The mech could remember seeing the lights once, colorful and innocent………..a time when the war had been more isolated in places like Iacon and Kaon and the war was nothing more than news reports for the inhabitants of the brilliant city to laugh over and believe it would “ _never happen here_ ”.

            The scavenger kicked a few more lifeless frames out of his path, as he followed the “ _strange feeling_ ” by using his EM field.   What he _could_ sense was another EM field, but this _wasn’t_ the dying ripples of a corpse—this was a **_living frame_** he could feel!   He increased his pace, following the feeling of the living EM field like a hunter seeking prey.

            **_A living frame amongst all the corpses left behind on the battlefield!?_**

            And then the scavenger saw just how a treasure like that could have been missed when he came upon something that could only be described as a “ _corpse mountain_ ”.   The living Transformer was _somewhere_ in that massive pile of dead frames.

            Bracing one caped arm against the pile of corpses, the mech plunged a violet-colored arm and servo into the pile of unmoving frames and started rummaging into the pile with his right servo.   All he could feel were cold, dead frames………..but his EM field _wasn’t_ lying, there was someone still alive in this pile!   All the scavenger had to do was keep feeling around until he felt the familiar warmth of fuel cycling through a living frame.

            _Ah._

_**There!**_

            The scavenging mech felt his servo close around another warm servo and pulled hard to see if he could get the living frame to shove through the pile of corpses.   He grunted and eventually got the other’s arm through the pile of non-living frames and saw it was red, with tarnished silver piping along the outer side of the forearm.   The servo was grey and trembling as it clenched tightly around his own.

            _You certainly didn’t find a treasure like **this** every day!_   The scavenger had never had a live frame to experiment on!    _This_ was certainly a worthwhile hunt today!

            The mech chuckled, got a better hand upon the red-colored arm and then set about to pulling the living frame out of the pile of corpses.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            It had been a chore to get the red-orange-and-yellow colored mech back to his secret base, deep beneath the long-since-devastated city of Brexel.   The mech had barely been conscious, but at least he had been much smaller than the scavenger.   But by the time they made it to the scavenger’s secret base deep beneath Brexel, the two were dirty and disgusting and the scavenger heated his pool to the maximum a living mech or femme could take without melting.

            He threw the young mech with the colors of flames right into the heated bath and threw a cleansing agent into the frothing waters, then he walked over to his own personal washrack and cleaned himself up quite thoroughly while the other frame soaked in the pool.   After he felt that he had been cleaned up to his own personal tastes, the scavenger returned to the pool and looked in to see the young flame-colored mech was mostly submerged in the frothing waters and had his servos lightly on the edge of the pool, as well as just the top of his head, from optics up, peering over the edge of the pool.

            “I suppose you clean up pretty, for a frame as brightly-colored as yours,” the mech chuckled, gazing down into the pool and at the shy young mech.   “Do you have a designation?  Or do the Autobots and Decepticons no longer allow the soldiers in their ranks to have them?”  He asked in a cool tone.

            The young mech was staring at the scavenger’s strange left arm.   It looked to be cut off partially up the forearm and sealed with a retractable panel.

            “I would think you would be used to seeing the disfigured in war, young one,” the scavenger laughed, gazing down imperiously at the flame-colored mech hiding as much of his frame as he could in the pool.   “Designation, brat, before I turn the temperature up in that pool and melt you down into slag.”

            “ ** _Hot Rod_**.   _I’m Hot Rod_ ,” the flame-colored mech whispered, looking up into the scavenger’s faceplate and was transfixed by seeing nothing but a single optic orb in the center of a hexagonal shaped faceplate that flashed as he spoke.

            “Appropriate, I suppose,” the violet-and-grey mech sighed.   “Finish cleaning up your frame with that sponge and dry off with towels over there.   I will come retrieve you shortly—I have much to examine about you.   You may wish that you had perished on the battlefield instead,” he chuckled, his soft voice dark and seductive.

            “ _Your_ designation?”  Hot Rod asked softly, his blue glass-covered optics still staring up into the scavenger’s strangely configured faceplate.

            “ _Mmmm_?   Should pets really ask their masters questions?”  The violet-and-grey colored mech chortled, deviously.   “You are mine now, you would do well to remember that, young Hot Rod.   And should I be forced to soon brand you with my designation, then you would read it as you are the property of _Shockwave_.”

            Hot Rod thought it a very strange way of introduction.   He felt a little disturbed to be talked to as if he were nothing but a turbofox or bladerat, but this mech _did_ save his life—so Hot Rod owed _something_ to this strange, strange older mech.    As soon as Shockwave left the room, Hot Rod turned around in the pool and reached for the scrubbing sponge.   He cleaned every millimeter of his frame off and went to pull himself out of the pool, when his arms gave out and he fell back into it with a large splash.

            Shockwave stood unmoving in the doorway and glared at Hot Rod.

            “Sorry, Shockwave…………. _my arms_ …………my arms gave out,” the flame-colored mech said, apologetically, wading back over to the edge of the pool and trying again—only to fall back into the bath with another inglorious splash.   “ _Umm_ ……my servo-motor controls won’t obey me………..” he whispered, about to try again when the violet-and-grey mech stalked over and reached down his good servo to grab Hot Rod by the center of the spoiler fins on his back and hauled him up out of the pool, dropping him next to it dispassionately.

            Shockwave did not miss the mewling sound the flame-colored mech made when his spoiler was grabbed.   He snatched up two towels and dropped them both on top of the young mech’s head.

            “ _Dry off_.   And **_do not_** address me by my designation,” Shockwave snapped, his single optic orb pulsing rhythmically as he spoke.   “If you must address me, it will be with _‘master’_ —do you understand?”  He said, firmly and evenly.

            Hot Rod stared up at Shockwave in disbelief.   Then he remembered, he might have died on the battlefield—buried beneath all those corpses.   He owed his very continuing existence to this strange violet-and-grey mech.   He ducked his head and grabbed the towels off of it and began to dry himself off.

            “I said, _‘do you understand?’_ —you will answer me now,” Shockwave growled sharply.

            “I—I understand, _master_ ………” the flame-colored mech responded shyly.

            Shockwave gave a nod of acceptance and then gazed down at the young mech drying himself off.   He raised his good servo to his odd faceplating and rubbed thoughtfully around the bottom ridge of it.   This mech _was_ young and rather durable—he might well be a “ _special one_ ”.   If this young, flame-colored mech could be trained for certain………….. ** _jobs_** ……………it might be well worth Shockwave’s investment to train him.   Plus, if this Hot Rod really were a “ _special one_ ”, being able to examine a living specimen of a “ _special one_ ” was too lucky of a chance to pass up.

            _There were many ways to entice and control the young ones._

_**Very many.**_

            It might even prove to be somewhat………… _delightful_.

            The violet-and-grey mech reached down with his good servo and brushed a few digits along the flame-colored mech’s jawline.   Hot Rod’s gaze went back up to his faceplate and then the scavenger watched as the blue-glass coverings dimmed when the young mech shuttered his optics with happiness and pleasure.

            _Yes_ , and this was **_definitely_** a way to control one so very young such as this.   The young ones who so easily blended the pleasures of the frame with emotions they labelled as “ _love_ ” could easily be persuaded into anything for their young idea of “ _love_ ” and the pleasures of the frame that they associated with it.

            Shockwave’s gentle digits stroked up along the side of Hot Rod’s pale grey faceplate, until the palm of his servo slid up and caressed the flame-colored mech’s helm.   The young mech gave something like a soft purring sound, deep in his vocalizer.   That was when the EM field around the younger one began rippling with want and need.

            If Shockwave could have smiled, a devious grin would have lit up his faceplate.   The young ones certainly were so very easily swayed and persuaded to do anything!

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            Though it really was quite **_odd_** , once the violet-and-grey scavenger had the young mech up on his examination table………….the flame-colored mech was _still sealed_.   And he was also absolutely _embarrassed_ at having to open his array to a stranger, no matter how much he seemed to submit to kind gestures and stroking.   Shockwave found it rather fascinating—he’d asked what Hot Rod’s age was and what his faction was, the answers to which were thirty revolutions and Autobot.

            The young mech had more years than Shockwave actually expected, but not as many as to make him jaded and downcast about the war.   “ _Autobot_ ” didn’t surprise him as the listed faction—the brand on his chest pretty much said it, marred and scarred as it was right now—because only the _young_ and _idealistic_ joined the Autobots.

            It was the desire and want and need dripping from the flame-colored mech’s EM field that had him puzzled, as well as the still-sealed interface array.   He shouldn’t _still_ be sealed, as needy as the little mech seemed to be………..surely there _couldn’t_ be an Autobot who could resist fragging such a pretty frame as this flame-colored mech seemed to have.   He seemed a bit too old to not have already enjoyed the pleasures of the frame with another mech or femme by now!

            “ _Unnnh……so hot_ …………” the flame-colored mech moaned, his face buried in the cool metal of the examination table.

            “Is it, now?”  Shockwave chuckled, brushing the digits of his right servo over the heat-softened seals.   The metal sealing Hot Rod’s interface array was soft enough that the scavenger felt he could easily peel the seals away on the young mech.   “I am rather curious as to why you have not fragged anyone yet.   You seem to be quite eager for enjoying interfacing.   They are not so prudish amongst the Autobots, are they?”

            “ _Want…….. **unnnh** …….want_…………” Hot Rod mumbled, grinding his forehead against the table beneath him.   “ _So much……….want………….. **so much more**_ ………….” he whispered, his aft swaying and hips rocking gently.   “ ** _The stars_** ………….” he added, his voice so very low that Shockwave barely heard those last words.

            He was quite puzzled as to what that might mean.   Hot Rod wanted _the stars_?   Or was it something meaning he was ambitious enough to want something **_more_** than could be had in his normal life?   Shockwave turned to his instrument table and uncovered the adaptor port in his left forearm.   With a soft snap and hiss, he attached a forensic claw to his left forearm.   He knew he had to open up the youth’s array, because to persuade him to do everything that could possibly be planned for the future—he _needed_ to bind the youth to him and make him beg to be ordered.

            _Sexual domination could do that._   Young mechs and femmes became obsessed and possessed by carnal desires—and could usually be persuaded to do anything for an individual when a sexually satisfying favor were the reward at the end.

            However, Shockwave had _no desire_ to rut with such a lowly, young mech.

            That didn’t mean he didn’t have………….. ** _tools_** …………….with which to satisfy such primitive carnal desires.   And those tools could be used to twist and corrupt and make the perfect puppet with which to achieve exactly what a “ _mere scavenger_ ” wanted.

            “Well, then.   We can alleviate that heat, but first a bit of pain to make it all that much more sweeter, little Hot Rod,” Shockwave said, his voice a slight purr of enticement.

            “ ** _Unnnh_** _………yes…….please………… **want**_ ………….” the little mech whimpered, raising his aft a little off the table and rocking it teasingly.

            Hot Rod’s EM field rippled heavily with need and want.   It was clear to Shockwave that _pure lust_ was ruling the young, flame-colored mech and nothing resembling any kind of common sense was there anymore.   Even the fear and shame that the young mech felt earlier had become nothing but longing and lust for pleasure.   _That_ was something that clearly worked in Shockwave’s favor, for if Hot Rod still had his shame and fear, it would be much harder to bend and break the young mech with sexual domination.

            The scavenger reached down with his clawed forensic tool and brushed it lightly over the softened metal sealing the young mech’s array.   The mewling that erupted from the flame-colored mech’s vocalizer was sweet and hungry.   Well, it would only be a few moments of pain…………..

            Shockwave pushed the sharp tips of the forensic claw into the soft metal, clenched and yanked it away hard and swift.   Hot Rod screamed in utter agony and then went instantly unconscious.

            “ _Ah, seal-breaking_.   Always a lottery on the reaction you get,” Shockwave chuckled softly, walking over to a cabinet and opening it.   He glanced all around the vast array of sex toys and pondered which ones he should use to give Hot Rod his first tastes of penetration and ecstasy.   He reached up with his good right servo and picked a thin, long spike-toy—with deep, V-shaped ridging along the sides and a thick, rounded head.   This would be a _good choice_ —he couldn’t start the young mech out with a very thick spike-toy, _not yet_.   It _needed_ to be long enough to penetrate deep into the valve and activate the ceiling node, awakening the young mech’s sexual programs and protocols completely with the first overload of pleasure.   The scavenger switched to grip it in the clawed forensic tool in his left arm and then flicked a couple digits from his right servo against it.   A visible, pale charge rippled up its length.   “ _Excellent_.   Now for the lubrication stimulant………..” he murmured, walking over to another cabinet filled with various potions and chemicals.

            Shockwave took his gathered tools and went back over to the examination table.   Setting everything down onto a stand beside him, he looked at the young, flame-colored mech’s faceplate.   Tears had leaked from the microseams around the blue glass-coverings of his optics and stained his facial ridges and the metal slab beneath his head.

            “Given time, you shalll be able to handle so much more pain than _this_ ,” Shockwave chuckled softly.   “Frankly, I cannot wait to open your chestplate and see what is inside of you.   Your reactions are so typical of a youth and yet………..there is something _different_ about you that I have never encountered in any of our species ever before.   You may be the one that will allow me to reach the apex of what we should become…………” he trailed off, turning back to his nearby stand of tools and opened the canister that had a frame-safe lubrication stimulant.   Then Shockwave picked up the spike-toy and tapped it against the edge of the stand a few times to get charge flowing through it, before dipping it and covering the false appendage liberally with the lubrication stimulant.   The chemical would act as something almost like an aphrodisiac and entice the young mech’s valve to lubricate consistently, while the charge in the spike-toy would activate the initializer rings inside the rim of Hot Rod’s valve and, eventually, amp the charge to maximum when it hit the ceiling node deep within the valve itself.

            Then the violet-and-grey colored mech reached over with his clawed forensic tool and tapped lightly on the side of Hot Rod’s red helm.   There was a soft, mumbling response.   Shockwave grunted and tapped the side of the helm a little bit harder.   The blue glass-coverings over the optics began to glow brighter as the orbs inside cycled open.

            “ _Good_.  I am glad you’re awake now, because honestly—how will you enjoy any sort of interfacing pleasure if you are unconscious?”  Shockwave said with a teasing tone in his soft voice.

            Hot Rod’s mouth opened, but only static came out.   He coughed as his vocalizer rebooted.   “You—you’re gonna frag me?”   He asked, curiously.

            “ _Oh, certainly **not**!_”   The grey-and-violet mech laughed, darkly.   “But I have plenty of ways to make you overload that do not entail me mounting you like a rutting turbofox in heat.”

            “ _Oh_ …………I—I see…………” Hot Rod whispered, the tone of his voice sounding disappointed.

            “There is _no such thing_ as love, young Hot Rod—you would do well to remember that,” Shockwave said, his tone even and emotionless.   “In our world— _our ever-changing world_ —there is only one constant.   The one willing to throw away allies, enemies and allegiances will stand at the apex and direct harmony and stability for a new era.   If you throw away your own petty emotions and attachments, you will see the world with clear optics.”

            Hot Rod made a strange little sound in his vocalizer— _they weren’t words_ , but they weren’t anything else that could be clearly understood either.   And several seconds after that, when the lubricated spike-toy was shoved hard straight into him, the next sounds Hot Rod made weren’t words either………..but those sounds were much more easily understood as they echoed in the laboratory room around the two mechs inside it.


	2. Assassin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shockwave puts his now-fully-trained assassin into play against both Autobots and Decepticons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chronological definitions:  
> revolution--year  
> set--week  
> rise--day
> 
> Please note there's some deaths here in this chapter.

_ Chapter Two:  Assassin _

 

            _“Always keep your optics on the target, no matter what the field tries to distract you with.”_

            That had been one of Shockwave’s many mantras when training Hot Rod.   He’d repeated it more often than he _should_ have, as Hot Rod had gotten distracted far too easily.   Especially early on in his training!   But after fifty revolutions, he’d gotten better and barely got distracted anymore.

            **_Barely._**

            Shockwave made sure to punish Hot Rod for any lapses in the attention he needed to have on his tasks.    And there were many, many ways to punish a mech or a femme—as Hot Rod had learned.   There were _good_ punishments—ones that the flame-colored mech had become rather addicted to—but there were also **_bad_** punishments.

            Those were the things that made Hot Rod wish his Spark had been snuffed out long ago, when Shockwave would punish him in _those ways_.

            “ _Frag_ , don’t do **_that_**!”  The deep voice behind him grumbled, as teeth sank into the flame-colored mech’s sunbright yellow spoiler.

            “Do what?”  Hot Rod asked, all innocently and stealing a coy glance back at the mech ramming into him from behind.   “Come on, Deadlock—you’ve _got_ to hurry it up, okay?   We may be at the Primal Forging week of truce, but if I _don’t_ get back to the Autobots within an acceptable amount of time—they’re going to brand me a spy permanently and _exile me_.”

            The grey-and-white mech snarled a curse and reached down to wrench one of Hot Rod’s legs up off the ground, even as he kept slamming his spike into the wet and eager valve.

            “I need………… ** _uuunfff_** ……….look, I _need_ my job.   I get paid well as a courier and Prowl’s pretty certain I’m not a spy at this moment,” the flame-colored mech continued, giving a heavy grunt as the head of Deadlock’s spike hit hard against his ceiling node.

            “Where in the Pit……… ** _nnngh_** ……….do you get your stamina?!”  The Decepticon growled softly, pushing hard against the littler mech’s ceiling node, trying to make that overload happen—for the _both_ of them.

            Something like _this_ wouldn’t make Hot Rod overload so easily, even though he quite enjoyed the friction of the Decepticon’s thick and jaggedly-ridged spike sliding in and out of him.   But he’d better at least _pretend_ to overload soon or his target was just going to wander away…………Deadlock and Lockdown were never far from each other, but even the other mech would get bored and leave, rather than listen to his partner frag a shiny little Autobot that happened to wander into their line of sight this morning.

            “ ** _Nnnffh_** _……just…….oh, there! **There**!_”   Hot Rod mewled sharply, making Deadlock remove a servo gripping his hip and slap it hard over his mouth.   He _wasn’t_ really there yet, but………..he could at least fake a small overload and get his calipers to stop drumming the invading spike and clench at it hard to make the Decepticon overload and finish up.

            _That training_ —the training of making his valve do what **_he_** wanted (instead of what **_it_** wanted)—that had taken far longer than the supposed “ _main_ ” part of his training.   But Shockwave rewarded him greatly when he’d proven he truly _could_ control his body’s carnal desires.   _That_ reward had made it all worth the grueling years of training.

            Deadlock gave a satisfying growl of pleasure as his spike throbbed with release, filling the flame-colored mech’s valve copiously with his transfluid.   “Seriously, you’ve got _the hottest frame_ I’ve ever fragged………thanks, kid,” he chuckled, giving the edge of the sunbright yellow spoiler a few playful nips before releasing his frag companion to lean against the wall of the building.

            “Well, thank Primus you’re done, because I’m _bored to death_ of listening to you rutting,” Lockdown groaned sharply.   “Shouldn’t you be delivering a message to somebody around here and getting back to your base?”   He growled, glaring at Hot Rod—who’d taken a towel from subspace and at least made himself a little more publically presentable.

            “ _Yeah, yeah_ …………I’m going,” Hot Rod sighed.   He moved to put his towel back into subspace when Deadlock grabbed it from him and held it up like the prize of a conqueror.   The flame-colored mech laughed and reached up to flick a digit against Deadlock’s forehead.    “You are ridiculously sentimental for a ‘Con,” he teased, hopping up and planting a quick kiss to the weaponsmech’s cheek, using a semblance of fondness.   Then he jogged off and glanced back, never letting Lockdown out of his sight for a moment.

            Hot Rod almost wanted to yell back at them to get moving—because honestly, how could he follow Lockdown to his mission briefing and finally do the job Shockwave assigned him to do today?   The two mechs just stood there and chatted like they had nothing better to do today, it began to make Hot Rod a bit frustrated.   Then, finally, Lockdown started stalking off with Deadlock trailing after him—apparently laughing.

            _‘It’s about damn time,’_ Hot Rod thought, circling about around a building and keeping his optics on Lockdown the whole time.   He completely blocked off his EM field and set his systems into efficiency mode to keep them as silent as possible—and followed the two mechs to his _true target_.

            Lockdown wasn’t the real target, just more like—a _bonus_ for playing the game well.   Because Hot Rod had been back and forth between the Autobot and Decepticon camps—he knew some of the goings on around there……….and that was how he got his information to convey to Shockwave.   Then his master would outline a plan and give Hot Rod a specific assignment and caution the younger mech to not return until the plan had been fully executed.   So, today’s actual target was the Decepticons’ Communications Officer— _Soundwave_.

            Soundwave gave all Decepticons their mission briefings, the orders coming directly from Megatron.   Shockwave decided that Soundwave had to be eliminated and that would throw a proper communications network into disarray—which was never good for any combat campaign that relied on such things to keep efficiency and accuracy throughout the units.   Shockwave had made the decision to take out the _Decepticons’_ Communications Officer first since the trust and balance structure was completely different among the Decepticons over the Autobots.

            It wasn’t just a lack of fully-supported trust, communication and bonds between the two factions—the Decepticons simply didn’t like working with each other for the majority of the time.   So, the communications run by Soundwave was absolutely integral to the structure of the entire command and frontline of the Decepticons as a whole.   The Autobots had a friendship with one another, for the most part and their command structure, as well as frontline soldiers, wasn’t as weak as the Decepticons—Autobots were willing to take up the slack should something happen to one of their fellows.   The Decepticons?   Not so much.

            The tricky part of this particular assassination over some of the ones Hot Rod had already performed in the last few years—Soundwave could communicate to absolutely anyone in an instant.   He **absolutely and completely** needed to be taken by surprise.   Plus there were his sub-units…….his “ _Cassetticons_ ”—they inhabited a subspace habitation area accessed through Soundwave’s chest.   Soundwave had a symbiotic relationship with these smaller mechs that he commanded………….and while they wouldn’t actually die if he did, that could cause a problem as well, they would attack whomever had attacked Soundwave!   And not just that, they could reveal the identity of the assassin—and that was something the flame-colored mech absolutely could not afford whatsoever!

            Hence the subspace lock device that Shockwave had given to Hot Rod.   It was small, it was portable and about the size of a flash-grenade………it clamped instantly and permanently when attached to a target and prevented subspace pockets from being opened by anyone.

            Hot Rod watched as Lockdown entered a small office building of some sort, while Deadlock stood around outside.   The weaponsmech had plenty of active energy, so he couldn’t stay in one place for too long—all Hot Rod needed was a few seconds…………and he got it shortly when the grey-and-white mech stretched his arms and went to walk around the building.   Hot Rod rushed in and was across the room before either Lockdown or Soundwave realized someone was in the room with them both.

            He clamped the subspace lock on Soundwave’s chest, even as he used his plasma long-knife to slice off the communications’ mech’s head.   Just as Lockdown pulled out his concussion rifle, Hot Rod had already spun around, slicing with the plasma long-knife and taking off most of Lockdown’s arm.   The flame-colored mech closed the remaining distance quick and sliced off the mech’s head as well.   He incyled a deep breath and pulled his messenger bag around his neck, so that he could put Soundwave’s head in it—as the proof to his master he’d performed the assassination.   He was just debating taking Lockdown’s head, too, when he heard the door open and spun swiftly on a pede, his plasma long-knife ready.

            “ _What in the……….. **Hot Rod**?_”  Deadlock gasped, his optics looking around to take in the situation quickly.

            The flame-colored mech chuckled softly.   “Ah, Deadlock—I _really_ wish you hadn’t come in.   _I really do_.   I kinda liked taking your spike.   It was so much fun,” he sighed, giving a large shrug of his shoulders.   “ _Oh well_ ……..” he murmured.

            Deadlock growled and pulled his twin concussion blasters over his shoulders.   Hot Rod was up against his chest in an instant, grinning like a fiend and then the Decepticon felt a flowering heat in his chest.   The plasma long-knife was buried in his chest—deep enough to penetrate straight to his Spark.   Hot Rod whipped his knife out of the chest and swept his arm quickly to take off Deadlock’s head as well.   He may as well take both of the other Decepticons’ heads, to prove to his master that he had a slight bit of a challenge to this particular assassination.

            Now it was time to report to Shockwave, before heading back to the current city that the Autobots had made their base of operations.   Hot Rod really hoped for a good reward for the good job he did!

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            “You really do have a lot of guts to head into Decepticon Territory all the time, ‘Rod!”  Sideswipe laughed, shoving the flame-colored mech down into his berth.

            Hot Rod giggled coyly.   He was in a good mood from the praise he received from his master, so he went back to the Autobots’ base in Trixatron and was playful enough to spend time with the two racers he’d met amongst the Autobots during his time there.

            “ _Someone’s_ gotta do it, right?   I’m fast and I know the roads and old battlefields—comes from being on my own for so long,” the young mech laughed, writhing a little on the rumpled sheets to show how revved up he was to frag.   “Where’s Sunny at?   He gonna join us—or is it _just us_?”   Hot Rod asked, drawing teasing servos over the flame pattern engraved on his chest.   He let one grey servo slip down to his groinplating and caressed it lightly.

            “Kup’s got him helping train a few newbies—he’ll be running a bit late, but I’ll keep you occupied until then,” the red-and-white mech chortled as he knelt on the berth and climbed up to stretch out atop the younger mech’s frame.

            “Oh, _good_.   I’d hate to have to take care of myself……….” Hot Rod purred, his servos reaching around Sideswipe’s waist and resting them with wrists crossed over the low center of the Autobot’s backstrut.   He leaned into the kiss that the red-and-white mech initiated and let his engine rev up even more.

            The carefree and sex-hungry personality was what Shockwave taught him to cultivate.

 

_“Others will loosen up around you, if they feel you do not really care about the intensity of the moment.   Act carefree and use your youth to play up a revved and hot carnal desire.   Interfacing— **fragging** —is a highly powerful tool and you have a good-looking frame what will help you sell such a wanton personality,” Shockwave told him, as he was training the flame-colored mech._

_“But I don’t wanna do that stuff—I only want **you** to do that stuff to me, master!”  Hot Rod pouted._

_The grey-and-violet mech gave a little huff of annoyance and let the bindings tighten around Hot Rod’s arms.   The little flame-colored mech groaned and licked his lips hungrily._

_“The pressure cuff around your arms may well break your arms off if you keep defying me, bratling,” the scientist growled softly._

_“It’s okay. **You’re** the one who saved my life, you can take it if you want,” the flame-colored mech murmured softly.   He wasn’t at all embarrassed that his open valve panel was making him leak a lot of lubricant down his thighs and onto the floor beneath the binding rack.   “I’m **yours** , master—I’m yours to do what you want to with……..” he panted, feeling a tight sensation in his valve, recognizing it as a sensation that came right before a satisfying overload._

_Shockwave sighed as he felt the hungry need flowing liberally from the young, flame-colored mech’s EM field.   There was **no way** he was going to be able to get the little mech listen to anything he said if he was that close to overloading already.   There was much more work that needed to be done to train this youth’s body to hold back everything……….at least until he was given permission to overload._

_“Since you did apply yourself quite well earlier, I will give you a special prize tonight—choose which spike-toy you would like to have inside of you,” the violet-and-grey mech responded, uncovering a table with a wide variety of sex toys._

_Hot Rod’s optics cycled open wider, making the blue glass glow intensely, as he stared hopefully at the table.   He licked his lips again—all of the toys had their own special sensations.   But if he were going to choose………….?   He looked over at Shockwave, who had folded his arms crossly over his chest.   But what if this was a test?   What if he chose one he really wanted more than others………..and his master chose something he wanted least?_

_“I am getting annoyed watching you drip on the floor, choose one and we shall get this over with, so that you will finally concentrate on the rest of the lesson,” the mech growled, annoyance toning his voice._

_“Yes, master………..I want………. **ummm** …………the tri-stim spike,” Hot Rod said quickly, after waffling a few more moments on his decision.   It was a standard, average size spike-toy, with standard wave ridging……..however it had two small stim probes that emerged from the base.   One was a tapering, blunt point, meant to tease the rim and dip shallowly into the afthole—the other was a long wand-like probe that had a texture to it and would rub against the transfluid pressure line of the user’s own spike, teasing gently.   “Please, master—may I have the tri-stim?”   He begged, softly, looking into Shockwave’s single yellow optic orb._

_“Very well,” Shockwave responded, picking up the spike-toy and shoved it right into the well-lubricated valve of his little pet.   He pushed it in pretty far and set the mag-lock on the base so that he could activate its wave-vibration function, without worrying about it falling out of the young mech’s wet valve.  He watched the flame-colored mech’s optics shutter and listened to the eager mewling of pleasure as Hot Rod reached for that overload, went beyond it, and had several more._

 

            Hot Rod grinned up at Sideswipe after the Autobot broke away from the kiss, then he rolled them over.   “You’re going _too slow_ , you slowpoke!”   He laughed, pinning the red-and-white mech beneath him.   “Now stay still—and let me enjoy your spike a bit,” he teased, sliding down the length of the mech’s well-built frame.   Hot Rod came to Sideswipe’s interface array and licked at the heated groin plating, swiping his glossa across the metal luxuriantly.

            The flame-colored mech had been sent back to the Autobots, once Shockwave decreed his training complete—as he’d once been an Autobot.   They’d fabricated a story of Hot Rod being buried by bodies on the battlefield and had been unconscious for quite some time—which was _not a lie_ —but eventually he worked his way out ( _that_ was the lie) and had just spent years scavenging and building his strength back up.   Then he wanted to join the Autobots again.   It seemed more appropriate to Hot Rod’s personality to have him reclaim the Autobot brand, than to have him “ _switch allegiances_ ” and go to the Decepticons.   Once he’d joined the Autobots, Shockwave had laid out a plan for him to get integrated into the daily life of the team and army that called themselves “ _heroic_ ” and “ _good_ ”.

            _Craft a young and carefree personality._

            _Be friendly and find those who share interests_ —in this case, since Hot Rod reveled in his alt mode and its speed, he looked for **_racers_**.   He found the twins, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, and worked on attracting and attaching to them………then worked his way into their berth, embedding himself _deep_.   At this point, not a single Autobot would even think that young and energetic Hot Rod were capable of coldly killing any mech or femme around him.

            _Use your skills and bury the truth beneath hundreds of layers of “ **truthful lies** ”._   That was both the easiest and the most difficult rule and mantra to follow.  “ _Truthful lies_ ”—lies that were realistic and could very well have been applied to Hot Rod’s life, should circumstances have gone differently.   He bragged about his speed and skills—and vast knowledge of the terrain and locations on Cybertron— _that_ was what had netted him the job of the Autobots’ top courier.   And **_that_** was a huge benefit that Shockwave hadn’t even expected, but had definitely rewarded Hot Rod for achieving that position!

            And, in all honesty, it allowed Hot Rod to have a lot of fun and freedom and to become quite savvy at interfacing!   As a courier, he often was given messages to hand off to top Autobot commanders—and sometimes even the Decepticons.   Optimus Prime—the current Autobot Leader—was claiming that he was trying to get Megatron to meet with him for potential talks of peace.   If Shockwave’s long-range plotting went as planned—there would be an end to this war and harmony on Cybertron once more!

            “Now who’s going too slow?”  Sideswipe laughed as Hot Rod’s glossa-strokes were long and slow on his panel plating.

            “What I’m doing is called _‘savoring’_ —you were going too slow, oldmech!”   The flame-colored mech chortled, sparing a brief glance up to gaze into the Autobot’s blue glass-covered optics.

            “Is this a private party, or can _anyone_ join?”   A new, but familiar voice laughed.

            “By invitation, _only_!”   Hot Rod responded, amusement in the tone of his vocalizer.   He wriggled his aft in the direction of the newcomer and opened his valveplating to tease.   “Now, if you have the _proper invitation_ ………?”  He added, giving a long stroke along Sideswipe’s groinplating with his glossa.

            “I think I have my invitation _right here_ ,” the newcomer chuckled, climbing on the bed and thrusting his spike into Hot Rod’s valve.

            “I think _that’s_ the proper invitation, Sunny!”   The flame-colored mech laughed, pleased that Sideswipe had finally opened his groinplating to let his spike and valve be bared to the mech between his legs.   Hot Rod purred with pleasure and swallowed the red-and-white mech’s spike down his intake as he slid a couple digits of his right servo into the Autobot’s valve.   Sunstreaker put some more effort and rhythm into his thrusts and all three mechs began to drown in their pleasure together.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            “I did _not_ order you to do **_this_**!!!”   Shockwave thundered when Hot Rod returned to the base beneath Brexel with the heads of two random Autobots.

            “ _But_ ……… ** _I_** ………I just wanted to **_please_** you, master!   I—I wanted to……..” Hot Rod stammered, softly, shuffling his pedes.

            “What do these two Autobots even _do_?   They are not the ones you play with, are they?   Because if they are— _the Autobots will suspect you instantly_!   Prowl already has concerns about you,” the violet-and-grey mech snapped sharply.

            “ _Nooooo_ ………..Sunny and Swiper would be missed if I…….no, they’re just two mechs that were walking around on patrol,” Hot Rod mumbled.   “They were trying to detain me from going out.”

            Shockwave gave a deep huff of annoyance.   This was the problem with pets—they were sometimes _far too loyal_.   They would start to try to do anything to please their master, even if not ordered to do those things.   He grabbed Hot Rod by the helm and slammed the little mech against the wall.

            “Very well, but _do not_ **_ever_** do anything like this again!”  He snarled, sharply, losing his very carefully maintained emotions veering into temper territory.  “Do you understand me?   You are _only_ to kill those whom I specifically order you to kill.   It _does not_ please me at all that you try to understand my grand plans—we must eliminate _specific people_ in a very methodical way.   We cannot kill those at random—it will only delay my plans.”

            “But………. ** _I_** ………….” Hot Rod murmured, softly.  He was starting to get a central processor ache from having his head slammed into the wall.  

            Shockwave set him on his pedes.   “I do not care about the collateral damage you cause in getting to your targets.   But you cannot cause _random damage_ to either of the armies.   I have it planned what the deaths of the ones I specify mean to both sides.   If you cannot do your assignments properly, I can remove you from doing such things for me ever again,” he growled.

            Hot Rod felt moisture welling at the microseams of his optic glass.  “I—I won’t ever do it again, master.   _I swear it_ ………..” he whispered, falling to his knee-joints and grabbing at one of Shockwave’s legs.   “ ** _Please don’t abandon me, master!_** ”   He cried, tears streaking his faceplating.

            “ _Nnngh_.   If I lock you up for a proper punishment, the Autobots will wonder where you have been.   So, I must take you at your word and allow you to return to the base in Trixatron,” the violet-and-grey mech.   “ ** _Go_**.   Report back to me in three sets for your next assignment.   Until then, pretend to be a good and proper little Autobot.   Play your little fun and games…….and absorb any information you can possibly give to me when you return.”

            “ _Y—yes, master_.   I will go now,” Hot Rod said, his tone sad and dejected.   Not only had he not received any reward, he had not received any punishment nor any further orders.   He felt very useless to his master right now.   He left the base in Brexel and went back to Trixatron.

            Shockwave went to his lab and thought about how he should alter his plans to accommodate his overeager little assassin.   The _end goal_ was the elimination of Optimus Prime and Megatron—without the two leaders of the factions, both Autobots and Decepticons would be in enough disarray that he could insert himself into a leadership role over _both factions_ —bring them together and enforce peace on Cybertron.   But he had to weaken both leaders’ power bases enough so that someone wouldn’t just take charge once either leader had been taken out.

            That meant the next ones that needed to be taken out should be _higher up_ in the command chain.   Up there on the level of either Prowl or Ironhide from amongst the Autobots, or Starscream from the Decepticons.   Shockwave may not be able to send Hot Rod straight to the Decepticons, yet—there needed to be a reason for the Autobot courier to be out that way.   So, taking out Starscream would have to wait until Hot Rod had been given a courier assignment to the Decepticons.   It likely wouldn’t be such a long time to wait—Optimus Prime had an almost chronologically predictable habit of sending messages to the Decepticons asking for a meeting to declare peace or at least a stable truce.

            For now, Shockwave would look at a plan to take out either Prowl or Ironhide first and keep the plan for eliminating Starscream behind until he had the chance to send Hot Rod in that direction.


	3. Conqueror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot Rod kills a bunch more people..............and suddenly runs headlong into his true destiny.

_ Chapter Three:  Conqueror _

 

            Hot Rod had not tried to disobey after his admonishment.   In three sets, he’d returned for his orders—and that had been to take out Ironhide and Prowl.   There was a minor time limit of two sets, because as soon as the flame-colored mech was given a courier mission to Decepticon Territory—the next task would be to take out Starscream.

            All three missions had been carried out efficiently and properly, just as Hot Rod had been taught.   Both the Autobots and Decepticons were in upheaval and there were some fierce days of combat—both sides acting as if pounding the life out of each other would alleviate the terrible happenings that just occurred.    The command chains had been in something of an upheaval—the Autobots had tried to work it out better than the Decepticons had (where they’d all been fighting with one another for Megatron’s favor and a rise in rank), but neither side had soldiers with the proper experience for leadership roles.

            Oh, sure.   Mechs and femmes had _tried_ …………and not succeeded.

            Hot Rod hid in the walls of the command center in Trixatron, listening to Optimus Prime and a handful of his soldiers try to discuss the resetting of the command chain.   The flame-colored mech just shuttered his optics to listen to every single word spoken and every single breath incycled.

            “Optimus………is there any way we can get Ultra Magnus to come in from the Badlands?”  Bumblebee asked, his voice very unique and familiar to Hot Rod’s audials.

            A nice guy, really.   Too nice of a guy to be locked into a war.   He was more of the type to be a greeter in a welcome center or something.   He could fight okay, but was better off gathering information for the cause.

            “I would sincerely like to do that, Bumblebee………however, he’s been staving off a bulk of Decepticon reinforcements for revolutions and if he abandoned that task—Megatron would have twice as many soldiers and combat might fall into their favor,” Optimus Prime responded, his voice sounding very weary to Hot Rod’s audials.

            “ _Nnngh_.   I still don’t like that there’s an assassin loose ‘round hereabouts,” Kup grunted sharply.   “Yeah, sure—nice they’re takin’ out tha ‘Cons too, but……..”

            “It sounds like one of the scavengers has just started to hate both sides,” Bumblebee mumbled, his voice muffled for some reason that Hot Rod couldn’t figure out.

            “We can’t actually blame them,” a lighter voice said—that would be a femme’s voice.  It wasn’t as light as Arcee’s, so it had to be Elita-1’s.   Hot Rod hadn’t interacted with many of the femmes around here, just Arcee (who was rather fun in the berth!), so he wasn’t certain—but knowing that Elita-1 was Optimus Prime’s lover and mate, it was most likely the voice belonged to her.   “They may enjoy scavenging the battlefields, but they’d probably prefer peace so that they could have jobs and get proper fueling and habitation.”

            “Hate to be the negative ion in the room, but…………have we ever considered that it’s one of _the couriers_?   The couriers go back and forth between command centers, as well as between the Autobots and the Decepticons,” a deep and annoyed voice complained.

            The voice was familiar and took Hot Rod by surprise—he hadn’t expected Gears to be in on any command meetings.   He must’ve been given a rise in rank because of the assassinations.

            “But there are dozens of couriers on both sides—we have to give them the leniency and the freedom to do their tasks,” Bumblebee responded back to Gears.   “If we don’t, then we may as well abandon the entire courier service—or did you have a courier in particular that you wanted to accuse?”  The soft-spoken voice snapped.

            “ _Nah_.   No one in particular, but they’re the only ones that have the freedom to go between factions, too—since the assassinations are all across the boards, it seems to lean in the direction of a courier,” Gears answered, his cranky old voice sounding a bit petulant in tone today.

            Hot Rod didn’t like _this_.   If Gears could get enough people listening to him—everyone would start coming down on the couriers and that would compromise Hot Rod’s job, both as a courier and ( _technically_ ) as the assassin they were actually looking for.   The Autobots had 33 couriers on their team—spread out across a number of units in various cities.   The number of couriers in the primary base of Trixatron was listed at 19.    The nearest Decepticon Territory had 8 couriers.   That means likely if they started following Gears’ line of thought—the 27 couriers in the “ _local vicinity_ ” would be brought under tighter scrutiny.

            _That would not be good. **Not at all.**_

            “We won’t disband the courier service—we need to have the couriers active and they need to have their freedom to go through the battlefields and territories,” Optimus Prime’s voice said, commandingly and firmly.   “We will just have to make sure that all command staff work in sets of two—it will be safer if everyone had someone else to watch their backs from now on.”

            Not an ideal thing, but something like that was more to be expected—at least they weren’t going to tighten security on the couriers, nor were they going to disband the service entirely.   It would be interesting to know what the Decepticons were doing with their security measures—or were they all still squabbling over the command chain assignments?

            Hot Rod made plenty of mental notes, to convey the information to Shockwave the next time he reported in.   Just then he heard something that had him rushing to get out of his hiding place and just set himself to wandering around the base area………….they’d started speaking of him, specifically.   So he knew they were going to look for him to run messages—he’d better look like he’s _not_ spying on everyone!

            Just a few moments later, Optimus Prime himself came to look for Hot Rod.

            “I want you to run a parley message to Megatron,” the Autobot Leader said, firmly, handing the flame-colored mech a locked datapad.   “We need to get him to come to the table, as the situation is becoming worse.   Convey to him, if you would, to give this message serious consideration.”

            “I’m on it, sir!”  Hot Rod responded, bobbing his head eagerly as he took the locked datapad.   He put it in his messenger bag and opened the subspace pocket beneath his spoiler to store the precious cargo.   Then the flame-colored mech transformed into his alt mode and set off for the Decepticon Territories.

            At least this would give him a good chance to listen in on things over with the Decepticons, so he had even more information to pass along to Shockwave the next time he was to report in.   The drive to Decepticon Territory was uneventful.   Hot Rod got the usual cheerful and snarky greetings that he always got from the Decepticon soldiers in general.   However………nothing prepared him for being in the same room with Megatron.

            While the Decepticon Leader held himself calm and composed, taking the locked datapad from the flame-colored mech politely— _Megatron’s EM field was like a storm_.   It was swirling and riled up with anger.   To be truthful, it made Hot Rod a little nervous to stand there, waiting for any kind of response from the powerful grey-colored mech.

            Then it all happened very fast—Megatron lunged at Hot Rod, his boot thrusters propelling them across the large room and he slammed the smaller flame-colored mech into the wall hard.

            _‘Oh.   I’m going to die,’_ Hot Rod thought, more surprise in his internal voice than he expected there to be.   Then he wondered if he’d said those words aloud, because Megatron shoved his faceplate to mere centimeters away from Hot Rod’s and made a feral growling sound before speaking…….

            “You’re _not_ going to die.   You’re just going to _wish_ you were dead,” the powerful Decepticon Leader snarled, slamming Hot Rod’s head back hard against the wall until he lost consciousness.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            It was better not described to anyone what had happened to Hot Rod at the servos of Megatron.   Not even Shockwave had ever been so brutal to him—or his interface array.   While Megatron recharged, Hot Rod slowly crawled out of the berth and looked around, then noticed the trail of purple-pink from between his legs—well, if he were going to get away, he couldn’t be trailing blood and transfluid and lubricant.   He used his plasma-knife to cut away some of the berthsheets………not the cleanest bandaging he could ask for, but it’d hold up until he could get away and get himself fixed.

            Wincing as he did so, he wadded up the fabric and pushed it into his valve, shallowly, and then closed his panels up.   This _wasn’t_ good—his gyros were a mess, he had _no balance_!   Maybe he’d be better off in alt mode?   As soon as he crawled from the room, he changed into his racecar mode and saw that at least his systems weren’t as bad for course plotting.

            Shockwave would be infuriated if Hot Rod came back to the base in Brexel, without being summoned properly.   For now………..Hot Rod would have to rely on the medics in the Autobot camp to fix him up.

            **_Maybe_** _._

_If he could make it there, that is…………._

            His visual guidance system, even in his alt mode, was beginning to go black now—starting with around the edges and creeping into a circular center.   That meant he was _losing consciousness_.   He had one last thought before he spun out and crashed—he wished he’d been a lot more careful in Decepticon Territory.   He’d gotten careless with his successful missions, he forgot just how dangerous everyone in the real world could be…………..

            When Hot Rod finally regained some sense of consciousness—more of a general awareness that there were people around him—he was surprised to find himself in a medical bay.  Then the voices around him were somewhat familiar, too—he knew the Autobot one, the Chief Medical Officer.   His tone was always very serious and he liked to lecture.   But the other………….it was a voice that _didn’t_ fit amongst Autobots.

            “Hey kid, I see you’re trying to wake up—can you hear me?”  Ratchet suddenly said, leaning over him.

            Hot Rod tried to say “ _yes_ ”, but it came out as a staticky whining sound.

            “Better than I hoped for, given his damage,” the chief medical officer said to his companion.   “This scavenger found you and he brought you to the Autobots’ satellite base in Korr.”

            Oh, _that’s_ what Shockwave was doing—using the scavenger ploy as an excuse to bring Hot Rod to a facility for medical care.

            “That he regained any sort of consciousness was a lot more than I hoped for—that cracked chestplating was not something to laugh about,” Ratchet grumbled.

 

**|Do not say a word.   I have reviewed the datalogs you stored, as I taught you.   Let the Autobots patch you up.|**

 

            Hot Rod could only move a few digits of his left servo to show he’d received the glyph-message from his master.

 

**|Return to me one set after your repairs have been complete and they choose to return you to duty.|**

 

            “I shall leave this youth in your care.   You have my apologies that I was unable to do more for him,” Shockwave said, his voice quiet as he pulled his cloak tighter about his frame.

            “It’s appreciated that you brought him back, rather than scavenge him for spare parts,” Ratchet responded with a wry chuckle.

            “In his condition, I doubt I would find _anything_ useful,” the old scavenger responded with a wry tone.   “Hopefully he will recover.   Our future is nothing without the youth to help forge it.”

            “A true statement,” Ratchet chuckled.   He watched as the scavenger left the room and then held a digit up to his audial as he contacted someone to make sure Shockwave left the base entirely.   Then the Autobots’ CMO gave a huff, folded his arms across his chest and gazed down at Hot Rod.   “I’m not sure where you came from kid, but this _isn’t_ battle-damage.   This is _intentional abuse-damage_.”

            Hot Rod heard what Ratchet said and thought back to what happened.   He’d taken the message to Megatron in the Decepticon Territory.   **_And then_** _……….Megatron attacked him_ ……………

            _Oh._

_**Oh yeah**._

            Megatron beat the hell out of him and then fragged him……….really, **_really_** brutally.

            The Decepticon Leader was so powerful and Hot Rod couldn’t even stand a chance against him.   He didn’t relent whatsoever the moment he made his move right against the littler flame-colored mech.   He’d been knocked more than halfway unconscious and was barely even living by the time it was all over.

            But _why_ , though?   Hot Rod had never given anything away that he was the assassin.   Why had Megatron just suddenly and brutally attacked him?

            Then Hot Rod felt a field that had some similarities to another he’d known come into the room.

            “How is he, Ratchet?”  The deep voice inquired, standing near the door, so Hot Rod couldn’t even look to see who it was.

            “It’s debatable, Magnus.   I’ve seen people get battle-damaged like this and they _don’t_ survive, this kid survived something done to him with full intention of hurting him badly,” Ratchet sighed.  “ _Maybe_ he’ll pull through if he sits still long enough for his nanites to heal him—and that’s like to be quite some time, honestly.   However……… ** _nnngh_**.   I looked inside him and I’m not sure what to think of what’s inside his chest.”

            “What do you mean?”  The one addressed as “ _Magnus_ ” said—that must mean this person was “ _Ultra Magnus_ ”, so Hot Rod must be out near the Badlands.

            “I’ll have to figure out what I mean with a report, for now, I’m going to try and get a few of the dents out of his arms and legs, while his nanites work on his chest damage,” the CMO responded, a deep sigh in his voice.

            “I got a report from Pax that one of their couriers went missing—and this youth fits the description,” Ultra Magnus said, firmly.   “Although if you talk to Gears, he will swear that the youth simply defected—Gears seems even more unfavorable to people now that he’s in charge of security.”

            _Ah_ , so the cranky Gears was promoted to Ironhide’s position in his absence.   Had Optimus Prime chosen a new Second-in-Command yet?   Or was his sparkmate continuing to fill the vacant position for the moment?

            But what was that about the inside of his chest?   Hot Rod wondered if there were damages beyond repair inside of his chest…………something his nanites couldn’t possibly heal?   But Ratchet’s tone didn’t sound worried so much as it sounded puzzled.

            Hot Rod raised an arm and Ratchet snapped at him to be still, but as he made a motion with his wrist and digits, the Autobots’ CMO realized he was using an old form of communication signing.

            “You surprise me, young mech,” Ratchet chuckled, patting the top of his helm lightly.   “Whether you’re okay or not has yet to be seen.   But, surprisingly enough with the wounds you’ve got, _you’re alive_ —and that’s saying something.”

            Hot Rod made another query using comm-signing.

            “Well, that I don’t actually know yet.   I want your injuries to heal up before I decide what the deal with the inside of your chest is,” the medic responded.  Then he watched the flame-colored mech sign another query.   “Will you……….. _the hell_?  Seriously, you’re thinking of being okay for interfacing after being brutally raped like **_this_**?   You’re _crazy_ , kid—you’re **_seriously crazy_**!”   Ratchet groaned, deeply, going back to removing dents in the younger mech’s legs, shaking his head in disbelief.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            Hot Rod needed three sets to heal enough for Ratchet to declare him fit for duty again.   The real struggle had been to get Ultra Magnus to let him head back to Trixatron on his own.

            “ _Nah_.   I’m fine, _really_!   I mean, look………..I got hurt in Decepticon Territory, not in travelling.   And I’ve been able to traverse the roads since I came online—I’m a _good_ courier!”  Hot Rod said, pleading with the force commander.

            “I don’t doubt that, Hot Rod.   But Megatron may want his Decepticons to finish the job he started with you, I doubt you could outrace a Seeker,” the red-white-blue mech said, seriously, as he scrolled through information on his datapad walking around the exterior of the base.   “Slipstream is the quietest and the fastest and you’d _never_ know she was coming.”

            _“C’mon!   I’ll be **fine**!_   I _need_ to get back to my job in Trixatron!   Sunny and Swiper probably miss me………. _maybe_!”   Hot Rod groaned, following Ultra Magnus around.

            “ _Tch_ ,” the force commander grunted.   “ _Very well_.   I can’t actually stop you if you want to go, but I want you to be extremely careful on your way back.   If I were you, don’t take the normal roads back to Trixatron.”

            “Wasn’t planning to.   I _love_ going the scenic route!”  The flame-colored mech laughed.

            “I have a message for you to take to the commander, as you’re going back anyways.   Make sure you take your time………and that scenic path.   Ratchet fixed up as much of your chest as he could, but fractures in your chest cavity like that are not the easiest of wounds to fix,” Ultra Magnus said, sharply, stopping and looking down at the flame-colored mech trailing behind him.   “Don’t push yourself too hard.”

            _‘He’s way too nice……….and ridiculously stern,’_ Hot Rod thought, amused by the conundrum that Ultra Magnus was.  _‘I still wonder **who** he reminds me of………his field………’_ he thought as he took a locked datapad from the force commander.    “I’ll see ya again sometime, Mags!”  The flame-colored mech said, cheerfully, putting the locked datapad in his new messenger bag and then stuffing it into the subspace pocket beneath his spoiler fins.

            “ _Tch!_   Do **_not_** call me shortened versions of my name, youngling!”   Ultra Magnus snapped after him as he dashed off.

            Hot Rod traversed the roads and once he was on the way back towards Trixatron—he veered off and went to Shockwave’s base beneath the devastation in Brexel.

            “Well.   Have they fixed the damage?”   Shockwave asked as Hot Rod entered his berthroom, catching the scientist and scavenger in a rest-cycle.

            “Yeah…….I’m good as new……….’cept Ratchet doesn’t think I should interface ever again and he said something about the extra space in my chest being weird,” the flame-colored mech answered, creeping closer to the berth, until his master glared furiously at him and then he stopped.

            “My assumption is you were created with extra space in your limbs and chest to make your frame lighter,” Shockwave responded, laying back in the berth and giving a deep sigh.   “As you are returning to Trixatron—it is time to give you your final task as an Autobot.   Do you feel in well enough health to do a job?”

            “ _Anything for you, master!_ ”   Hot Rod said, excitedly, creeping towards the berth again and then flopped onto it before the violet-and-grey mech could say “ _no_ ”.   He curled up against Shockwave’s legs, which were covered by the thin blanket, and snuggled happily, purring.   Before the scientist to order him to remove himself from the berth now, he found Hot Rod to be completely in recharge and figured it was alright to give the youth some rest, given what had just happened.

            They both recharged and Hot Rod was eager to get his new orders as soon as they had both woken up.   As the flame-colored mech listened to the details of his next target—he knew exactly why it was his “ _final task as an Autobot_ ”.   He was given the task of taking out one of the biggest two pieces of prey that were out there—Optimus Prime, Leader of the Autobots.   Hot Rod had the perfect opportunity to interact with Optimus, as well—he had a message from Ultra Magnus.

            This would not be easy and Hot Rod knew he’d have to get out of Trixatron fast.   No time for good-byes to anyone.   He knew he was faster than **_any_** Autobot, even Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.   The plan after that was to head straight for Decepticon Territory with a horde of Autobots on his trail.   The beginning of an epic battle, in which Hot Rod was to try and take out Megatron as well, so Shockwave could finally bring both sides in under his command.

            “Are you afraid of doing this?”   Shockwave asked, his single-optic gaze imperious.

            “Maybe, of trying to get to _Megatron_.   I………know how powerful he is.   I don’t know how close I can get—if I can do _that_ particular job.   Optimus Prime, though—I think I can do that one,” Hot Rod said, very seriously.

            Shockwave brought his digits up to rub the edge of his faceplate.   “ _Very well_.   Leave Megatron to me, then,” he answered, nodding his head gently.

            “You’re sure, master?”  The flame-colored mech asked.   He didn’t want to tell his master he couldn’t do it, but he was pretty certain he couldn’t do it at all…………he didn’t want to risk the failure destroying millions of years of plotting that Shockwave had done.

            “In general, I would not bother to sully my servos with such a task—but we are very close to what it is I have desired all my life!”  Shockwave responded, his voice sounding so very eager for this—for the first time that Hot Rod had ever heard.   “Soon, very soon now………..I shall stand at the apex of our species!”

            “I’ll do my best, master—I’ll bring you the death of the Autobot Leader,” Hot Rod said, bowing deeply to his lord and master, before taking his dismissal and heading on to Trixatron.  

            Optimus Prime saw him right away upon his arrival.  

            “ _Hey_ …………sorry about what happened.   Megatron kind of went crazy……… ** _I_** ……..” Hot Rod said, sheepishly, handing the locked datapad from Ultra Magnus to the Autobot Leader.

            “Are you all right, Hot Rod?”  The red-and-blue mech asked, softly, unlocking the datapad and reading the information.

            “ _Yeah_.  I mean, Ratch made me lay in bed for like two sets before giving me physical therapy for another week—it was boring as the Pit!”  He laughed, showing the cheerfulness he’d cultivated as part of his surface personality all these revolutions.

            All of the sudden, Optimus Prime’s faceplate showed some kind of surprise as he read the datapad and Hot Rod registered that as his chance.   He leapt forwards and thrust his plasma long-knife deep into the Autobot Leader’s chest, aiming for the Spark and hitting something else.   He grunted as he yanked it out just as Optimus reached up a servo, then he quickly sliced off the red-and-blue mech’s head.

            _‘What the hell did I hit inside his chest?   Felt like my knife was bounced back………’_ Hot Rod thought as he quickly stuffed Optimus’ head into his messenger bag.   He quickly knelt and opened up the chestplating to find…………. ** _something_** in the mech’s chest he’d never seen in any mech or femme’s chest before.  _‘Is that his Spark?   I’ve never seen such an ornate spark-casing before.   It’s still glowing even though he’s dead……….’_

            Hot Rod shook it off fast, he couldn’t afford to linger.   He grabbed the strange object and thrust it into his messenger bag as well.   He figured he had five minutes or less before someone came in after he left—and as soon as that happened the alarm would go up and as Hot Rod was the last one to speak with Optimus Prime, it would make him a very highly sought-after person-of-interest!   He had five minutes to start burning rubber out of Trixatron, before everyone would be after him!

 

*      *      *      *      *

           

            It was like everything happened so fast after all that.   Millions of years of careful plotting and planning and the end came within the next rise.   Hot Rod sped towards Decepticon Territory with a force of Autobots in pursuit.   The Decepticons instantly came to attention the moment the Autobots were headed their way.   The Autobots sent more soldiers in as the battle escalated.   More Decepticons arrived—it was a sheer bloodbath.

            And, somehow, within all this chaos, Shockwave had made good on his promise to eliminate Megatron.   Now both sides were basically directionless and fighting on emotions.   And as the battles died down………..Shockwave revealed himself to both forces, said firmly and loudly to them all that he would take command.   Surprisingly enough, the weary survivors relented and both Autobots and Decepticons surrendered to their sudden conqueror.

            Over the next couple months, the Autobot and Decepticon forces across Cybertron were all ordered to stand down and their force commanders to report to Shockwave’s new central base in the former capital of Iacon.   Perhaps it had been the many millennia of war and all sides were weary of the fighting, no one had wanted to try and stand against Shockwave’s new edicts or anything.

            Except one had simply vanished—Ultra Magnus, the Autobot force commander out in the Badlands.   But he didn’t appear to show up anywhere later on to cause trouble, so Shockwave chose to ignore one single mech’s self-imposed exile from the new regime.

            Hot Rod had been rewarded for his loyalty and had been ordered to “ _remain in hiding_ ” for a while.   At this point, he had been clearly associated with the various assassinations and a lot of people wanted to make him pay in one form or another.   The flame-colored mech wasn’t sure if he were being protected or punished by Shockwave.

            Did Shockwave actually have any more use for him now that his desires had been achieved?

            The flame-colored mech handed over Optimus Prime’s head, but he kept the strange object that was in the Autobot Leader’s chest.   It still glowed, _even now_.   So it **_couldn’t_** have been Optimus Prime’s Spark.  

            Today, he was far away from where any Autobots or any Decepticons were—on the other side of the Badlands, closer to the devastated city of Kaon.   He’d wandered around, looking at the crumbling buildings and torn up streets.   Then he found an old fountain or plaza stage or something.   Whatever it had been, it was mostly a large, semi-flattened slab by now.   The flame-colored mech stood atop it for a few moments……..then he laid down on it and looked up at the eternally starry sky over Cybertron.

            “ _Hunh_.   I wonder what you are, shiny thing………” he murmured softly, placing his digits in the little slots on the handles and holding it up above him.   “You make me feel things I haven’t felt since I was a newmech—wide optics staring at the world that a youngling could never hope to understand.”

            “It’s the Matrix of Leadership—it belongs **_only_** to the one who is the Leader of the Autobots,” a familiar voice said.   There was also a strangely familiar EM field………

            _‘Oh.   That’s who he reminded me of…………Optimus Prime………..’_ Hot Rod thought as he looked over to see a tall, but not overly largish mech, white armour and derma with blue boots and blue and silver striping on his forearms.   The shape of his frame really looked a lot like Optimus Prime’s.   “Hey, Ultra Magnus.   So……….. _this_ is what you really look like, _hunh_?”   Hot Rod asked, sitting up and looking at the mech that approached him.   “Twin frames?”   He murmured as the mech sat down beside him on the ancient slab that may have been a plaza stage or something once.

            “Twin Sparks,” Ultra Magnus answered.

            “Why didn’t you answer Master Shockwave’s edict?”   Hot Rod asked, twirling around the Matrix in his servos.

            “Because I saw a different fate when Ratchet showed me his report,” the soldier answered, chuckling softly.   “There was once a time when it once came around for a new Autobot Leader to be chosen and both my brother, Orion Pax, and I were candidates.   The Matrix chose Orion over me because I was needed somewhere else on Cybertron.   For a long time, I questioned it—I wondered why **_I_** hadn’t been chosen.   And then the old medic I worked with out on the battlefields told me I wasn’t designed for it and my brother was.   He showed me the photoslides………Pax had the cavity in his chest that the Matrix fit in, I didn’t.”

            Hot Rod tilted his head, puzzled, and was about to ask what that meant, until it dawned on him.

            _His own chest had space in it.   Like Optimus Prime’s did._

            “That’s right.   Ratchet showed me the photoslides he took of your open chest—and I was instantly reminded of my brother,” the white-colored mech said with a soft little chuckle.

            “ _But_ …………I’m _not_ a good mech.   Even **_I_** know that.   I know what I’ve done for my master and………..” Hot Rod mumbled, gazing deep into the crystal area he could see in the front side of the Matrix.   He had far too much blood on his hands to be any kind of good and noble leader!

            “War is never good, either.   Sometimes the noblest of heroes must walk a very dark path before they reach the light,” Ultra Magnus said, sagely.   “Shockwave does _not_ have Cybertron’s true interests at Spark—he wants to set this logical and restrictive path, one that takes away all our freedoms.   And if he does that, then what have we all fought for these millions of years?”

            “Then what……….. _what do I do_?”  Hot Rod asked.

            “I think there’s one last assassination you must do—and then you need to shoulder the mantle you were born for, abandoning the one you were trained for,” the soldier responded, reaching over and rubbing Hot Rod’s helm lightly.

            “ ** _I_** ……….I’m not good at being alone……….will you come with me?”  The flame-colored mech whispered, feeling a sudden coldness in his depths as he realized he was about to betray the mech who found him, revived him and practically raised him.

            But Shockwave treated him as nothing more than a tool.   Using his youth and sexuality to control him like a pet.   Hot Rod began crying, hiccupping and static disrupting his vocalizer.

            “That’s what **_I_** was born for.   To be at the side of the leader that we all need now,” Ultra Magnus said, his voice full of fondness as he reached over and hugged the younger mech’s shoulders.   “Abandon brands—that was the _only thing_ Shockwave had right—and become a leader over all.   Keep council, so that you know the needs of the people you protect.”

            “ _Can_ —can I do it?”  Hot Rod whispered softly.

            “We wouldn’t be here now, if you couldn’t.   Shockwave trained you to be the ultimate assassin, I don’t think he ever realized he was training you to bring _him_ death,” the soldier said.   “Let’s make some plans.   It’s got to go smoothly.”

            Hot Rod rubbed at his optic glass and smeared the tears across his faceplate.   He smiled softly and nodded.   And so, the two of them planned to scale the apex of society and take out Shockwave.   There should be no way Shockwave would be suspicious of Hot Rod—he clearly considered Hot Rod merely a tool to get where he was and no longer cared about him.   Ultra Magnus kept his armour in a subspace pocket and wandered around in his birth form—no one would realize who he was, because most people who knew Ultra Magnus at birth had been long since dead.   They might look at him strangely, because his frame looked oddly like Optimus Prime’s………but there were mechs and femmes that had similar frame designs everywhere on Cybertron.

            **_And, you know what?_**

            “ _Wow_.   That felt a lot better than I expected,” Hot Rod laughed, pulling his plasma long-knife out of Shockwave’s chest.   Purple-pink lifeblood sprayed out from the wound.   The flame-colored mech raised the knife for the finishing blow—as _all_ his assassinations ended……….

            “ _Bratling Hot Rod……… **traitor**_ ………” Shockwave’s voice rasped.

            “How can I be a traitor to someone who never even saw me as a person?”  Hot Rod snapped sharply, then he smiled—a bit sadly, a bit tiredly.   “And by the way……….it’s no longer _‘Hot Rod’_ —the designation will now **_always_** be _‘Rodimus Prime’_.”

            The blade fell in its killing arc and Shockwave fell from the apex of Cybertronian society straight into the Pit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this weird and dark little 'fic. Happier stuff will be done next. :)

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this story came about in a very weird way. It's actually based upon a dream I had--a dream that was NOT a work-related dream (I have way too many of those). Let's just say, I watch too many t.v. shows and movies with horror and murder and stuff in them that I really shouldn't. I also read too many comic books, this dream had a very comic book look to it. And while elements of the actual dream don't work as a story because they're too weird and disjointed. I took the basic plot and elements of it and fixed it up into a work of fiction.
> 
> I am hard at work on my happier plotline series, including a new MegaRod 'fic. This one just came out of nowhere and I thought I'd write it................like a Pokemon dream I had recently that was very dark and mysterious and had Lance in it, of course. *chuckle*


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